


Missing Meechum

by orphan_account



Category: House of Cards (US TV)
Genre: F/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-04
Updated: 2014-04-08
Packaged: 2018-01-18 04:22:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1414945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Underwoods are in the White House and haven't managed a private visit with Edward in weeks.  Claire seeks to console her husband.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Of course, they missed Meechum. The move from the townhouse to the White House had been stressful enough, not to mention the transition into presidential power; 

“There just isn’t time,” Francis groaned wistfully. “Or privacy. At least not yet, until we get used to things.

President Underwood, of course, saw Edward every day, the handsome young Secret Service Agent scarcely left his side, even for mandatory breaks. 

“Sir?” he’d said – not a complaint or anything, merely a gentle reproach. Of course Meechum missed them and the thing they’d barely started before everything went topsy-turvy.

*

Claire leaned her weight against Francis’s hip with one hand as she adjusted the leather straps, pulling the dildo tight and steady – its curved attachment sliding neatly between the lips of her sex and the second, smaller cock-shaped end anchored deep inside of her.

“I know I’m not Edward,” she said, almost apologetically, though their lover had never taken Francis this way. Not yet.

Francis turned, looking back at her with a flushed face and with pupils wide with desire.  
“Edward who?” he asked, dropping a cheeky wink. She smacked his ass and grinned back. 

For now she was the only one who could do this, who could top the most powerful man in the free world.

Francis had once snapped at Adam, how the photographer hadn’t a clue about their marriage. Edward did but for now it was just the two of them. President and First Lady.

She pushed the cock inside her husband, savoring his tiny moans and the tremble of his back and thighs. The two of them would have to be enough, at least, for now.


	2. Chapter 2

“I kissed Edward today,” Francis told Claire. They were undressing for bed after another exhausting day.

“Did you?” she replied, her voice filled with envy. Edward’s job was to be the President’s shadow – the agent at his side while the others positioned themselves at various distances to watch for assassins. It was Edward’s job to take the bullet and of all of the Secret Service, both veteran agents and new, it was him that Francis trusted to make the ultimate sacrifice.

Francis rarely prayed but if there was a really a higher power than himself, he asked that Edward would be spared from fulfilling his ultimate commitment.

“You know he trails me everywhere,” Francis continued.

She nodded.

“Well, I was about to address the Congress but I pretended I needed to take a leak and he and I ducked into the Senators’ Lounge. Edward was right behind me, locking the door for safety’s sake.”

Claire rolled her eyes.

“Of course. For safety’s sake.”

Francis grinned. “Couldn’t do more than slip him some tongue. And for just a minute or two, at that or I’d have given my speech with a giant boner.”

Glancing down at her husband’s crotch, Claire whistled. “That would have been something!”

“Yes. I’m sure CNN and CSPAN would have had a fucking field day,” he laughed ruefully. “It was bad enough that Meechum followed me out of there sporting wood.”

“Oh, no!”

They collapsed against one another, giggling.

“Was he happy, though?” she asked wistfully.

Francis drummed his fingertips against her lean hip.

“A bit. It wasn’t enough but he cheered up when I gave him a little gift.”

“Hmmm? What was that?” she asked, resting her head atop his slightly soft belly.

He didn’t answer, merely grinning.

“What?”

“I’ll just say that if you go lookin’ for your pale rose colored panties, you won’t find them.”

“Those are my favorites! I wear them when I go running!”

“Yep. When I fished them out of the dirty clothes hamper I could tell you’d had a nice good sweat wearing them.”

Her mouth opened with the tiniest look of shock. “Did you smell them?”

He guided her hand down the front of his sleep shorts.

He was hard.

“Just thinking about them gave me this,” he said, pushing against her warm hand.

“Oh!”

Francis groaned. “In fact, I felt so aroused that I had to add my own…contribution to Edward’s present.”

“You didn’t!”

“Hell, Claire. I jizzed them up real good,” he drawled, looking spectacularly pleased.

She pause long enough to tighten her grip around his fat cockhead and to give it a few lingering tugs. He arched his back and groaned.

“Did Edward notice?”

“I might have whispered something to that effect as I pressed them into the inner pocket of his suit coat,” admitted the President. “Also something about how should wrap the panties around his dick when he gets home. And jerk off.”

“Of course. Anything else?”

She’d developed a rhythm - up and down his shaft with her right hand while tugging on his sack with her left – rough, like he liked it.

“That he should bring them back to you after… after he….cleaned them with h…his tongue!” stammered the most powerful man in free world as he came into her fist.

She smiled indulgently at her husband, the man who had never once made her bored. “Good. I’m going running on Friday. I’ll wear them then.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll have plenty of exercise by then,” smirked the President. “If Edward and I have anything to say about it.”


	3. Chapter 3

The following morning, Edward waited until he and Francis were alone in the Oval Office before he approached the President.

“Sir? I believe you dropped your phone,” said the tall, rangy agent as he handed over a cheap burner phone rather than the expensive Blackberry Underwood favored. “That’s not mine,” stated Francis, eyebrow cocked.

“Sure? Take a look,” wheedled Edward, barely holding back a grin. Leaning back into the deep leather chair, Francis examined the phone; it was one you could buy on street corners or convenience stores – nondescript and untraceable. But it did have a camera and there was a link to a photo album on the screen. He pressed the icon. There was only one picture. It was of a cock. A large cock, to be precise. A large, very erect cock straining against the thin, fine pink cotton of a woman’s panties. The head, heavy and leaking pre-come, was a darker shade of pink and it peaked out from the waistband, too large to stay confined.

“Edward?!?” gasped President Underwood. Edward leaned over, resting a friendly arm on Francis’s shoulder as he glanced at the screen. “I’d have done more but my hands started shaking.” Francis whistled, turning the phone to check out every angle. “Nooo. One’s enough. Damn, you look tasty! When did you take this?”

“’Bout an hour ago, Sir.”

“You mean?!?”

“I’m still wearing them? Yes, Sir."

Francis stood up, adjusting his crotch to make his excitement less apparent. He stuck his head out the door. “Nancy, hold all my calls please. And no visitors.” He locked the door behind him. He positioned Edward in front of him, leaning, half-sitting on the desk. Francis tugged Edward down for a kiss; their tongues intertwined as the President massaged the younger man’s muscular thighs, rubbing everywhere but the man’s cock. “Pull down your pants. I wanna see,” drawled Francis, groaning with desire at the first sign of pink.

The panties were ruined – Claire could scarcely wear them now but she had others. Hell, she could have a hundred new pairs, swore Francis as he rubbed his face against the strained, damp cotton, mouthing Edward’s cock and balls.

Carefully, Edward gripped Francis’s head, mindful of the man’s thinning hair as he pulled the President closer, begging for him to suck him down. “Sir! Mr. President, please!”

Francis hated to see someone suffer and so he obliged, if only taking in Edward’s tip, rolling his tongue around the edges while sucking hard with his lips. Every so often, he flattened his tongue, swiping along the slit to gather the salty fluid welling there. Edward had to bite his hand to keep from sounding loud enough to attract the rest of the staff, especially once Francis began pumping his hand along his shaft, taking more and more of that thick cock inside of his mouth. Even so, there was a low yelp and guttural moan as the Secret Service agent came. He shuddered, three or four times as he pumped his come into the politician’s ready mouth.

“Thank you, Edward,” whispered Francis, his lips swollen red.

“No, thank you, Sir,” smiled Edward, lowering to his knees.


	4. Birthday Party

It had been a hard day, his birthday. Francis Underwood, now President, had eaten numerous slices of cake and opened dozens of gifts while the press took picture after picture. He grinned despite a headache forming behind his eyes and along his jaw as he gritted his teeth. And add to that, Edward had taken a sick day. Just my luck, Francis thought darkly, smiling for yet another photo-op.

It was dark by the time he made his ways to the Residence, the portion of the White House that they had lived in only two weeks now. The rooms were empty. Damn. Claire must be asleep, he thought with an unwelcome pang of self-pity. Plus, he stumbled over an ottoman, nearly cracking his head against an end table. Ugh.

But a light, tiny, moved from the kitchen to the living room. A candle atop a cake, a cake carried by Edward, flanked by Claire.

“You didn’t,” laughed the President, his mood lifting as well as his headache. His wife and their lover; what more could a man ask for?

“I’m off duty, Sir,” explained Edward, laughing. This oft-spoken phrase had become a punch-line, something that tickled both Underwoods, who joined his laughter as he put the cake of the maple coffee table.

“I see you are,” growled Francis, his voice filled with hunger; the younger man was out of uniform. Edward wore a snug pair of black boxer briefs, nothing else.

Claire drew Francis closer, wrapping an arm around his waist as Edward grinned, standing at attention in front of them. She nodded and Edward cleared his throat.

“Happy Birthday to you. Happy Birthday to you. Happy Birth-day, Mister President. Happy Birthday, to you!”

It wasn’t quite Marilyn Monroe, this is true, but Edward’s voice was low and sweet and true.   
And that was more than enough.

Francis blew out the candle, unknotting his tie and kicking off his shoes, preparing for his party.


	5. Cake

“We’ve got a surprise,” exclaimed Claire, unbuttoning her husband’s shirt and handing it to Edward.

The two worked in tandem, stripping the Chief Executive Officer of the United States, their hands and mouths lingering as they exposed him to the cool air of the room.

“Oh? A new pair of cuff links?”

Edward laughed. “No, Sir! Not this time.”

“Come here, Edward,” urged Claire, arranging him on the bed before Francis, belly down. She turned to her husband. “You unwrap him!”

Edward lifted his hips while Francis ran his fingers under the waistband of the black boxer briefs, playing with the dimples just below, the ones he loved to kiss. The younger man turned to stare back at him, a trifle impatiently. Francis shrugged and slid the shorts down, whistling appreciatively as he stared at Edward’s high, rounded buttocks.

Claire bent towards Edward’s head, whispering in his ear before kissing him passionately, their tongues wrestling together as the young agent pulled up on his knees. That’s when Francis noticed something, not odd but different. He’d never entered Edward anally, at least not with his cock; he’d wanted to take things slowly so the brave former-Marine could move beyond the memories of his rape. And they had moved slowly, perhaps too much so, the new demands of his Presidential appointment stripping away time and opportunity for any of the three to join together for more than a stolen minute or two. But Edward looked slick; ready to penetrate.

“Please, Mr. President,” begged Edward while Claire stroked his ass, spreading his cheeks further apart for Francis’s viewing pleasure.

“He’s ready, Francis,” she said, beaming. “Edward and I have spent the last few hours getting ready for you. If you like….”

“Edward? Are you sure?”

Their protector nodded.

“Well, let me kiss you first. Both of you. I need a chance to catch up!”

*

They were getting better at it; limbs tangling comfortably, fingers finding and stimulating just the spots that made men and woman keen with pleasure. Together, they brought Claire to orgasm, trading back and forth between her breasts and between her thighs.

“Come here, Edward,” whispered Francis, lying on his back with his shoulders and head propped up by pillows. Come straddle me!”

Claire slicked them up first, plunging her fingers into him with one hand while she coated Francis’s cock with lube. She smiled, holding Francis’s cock up as Edward leaned onto it. He stopped when just the head of Francis’s cock entered him; breathing heavily while the married couple soothed him.

“That’s far enough, darlin’,” said Francis, stroking Edward’s trembling arms as he held himself above the President, poised to sink further down on the man’s fat, steel-hard erection. Slowly, inch by inch, Edward took him in, lower and lower until their union was complete.

Francis waited, shivering as Claire knelt behind them, caressing Francis’s sack and reaching to touch the place where their two bodies were joined. Edward began to move, rocking his hips. His face was blissful. Francis, bracing his heels against the bed, began thrusting, meeting his lover’s down strokes. Claire watched, mesmerized, only intervening when both men thrusts grew fast and frantic. With a slicked hand, she took Edward and began stroking him to completion; his come painting Francis’s thick middle as the President came inside him. Claire kissed them, passing a warm, wet hand towel both.

“I’ll go get us a slice of cake!”


End file.
